


We're not ready

by Muzuki_chan



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muzuki_chan/pseuds/Muzuki_chan
Summary: Prompt 5, “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”





	We're not ready

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moyzi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moyzi/gifts).



Just thirty minutes earlier, Shizuo was still asleep with nothing but the foggy grey light of the dawning sun coming to creep into the corner of the sky. Just thirty minutes earlier, Shizuo was in bed asleep with tousled blankets and limbs and arms tangled into a mess with a certain louse that he hated yet liked more than anyone else.

 

Just thirty minutes earlier, thirty minutes before seven in the morning, Izaya Orihara had laid beside Shizuo on the bed; blankets and pillows bunched up around them and their breathing slow and even.

 

But thirty minutes had passed already and Shizuo honestly didn’t remember signing up for this, whatever this was, that occurred every morning or so with Izaya.

 

“It’s interesting isn’t it, Shizu-chan?” Izaya curls up languidly on the couch, movement similar to a haughty-like feline as he stirs a spoon in his cup of coffee held between his slender, dainty fingers. His smile is already so sharp in the morning and his words burn like scalding hot iron into Shizuo’s eardrums whenever he hears the distasteful nickname rather than his given name. “It seems that in stories, there is a truth universally acknowledged that a madman in possession of a great brain must be in want of a minion.”

 

Shizuo snorts at the thought of it; a madman in want of a minion, laughable, but a well-known trope nonetheless in stories of all kinds if he thinks about it, but he doesn’t want too. Not this early in the morning anyway, especially after the shitty stunt the louse pulled last night. The conversation blossoming between them has only just begun, and Izaya’s gotta pull this bullshit over him before he can even get to the damn fridge and eat something.

 

He damn well deserves his award for not having killed Izaya yet.

 

Shizuo mumbled vulgar curses under his tongue as he shuffled through the small kitchen of his apartment. Unlike Izaya, he didn’t have enough money to live within the school dorms of Raira University. He still doesn’t understand why Izaya chooses to crash at his place instead of his own but he doesn’t mind it all too much, or at least, he doesn’t mind it when his heart hasn’t capitulated itself into adoring every angle and aspect of that cunning man sitting on his couch.

 

Izaya takes a sip of the coffee and his eyes quint after taking a few gulps of it. His eyebrows rose, curving into an almost-too-perfect arch as he places the mug back on the small coffee table in the living room. From Shizuo’s standpoint in the kitchen, he can see every slight quiver of muscles underneath the college student’s alabaster skin. Izaya’s lips purse into an enticing pout before leaning back against the couch, arching his spine like a rousing cat waking up from its fitful slumber.

 

“Even though it is truthful in a sense that most madman - or villains per say - end up wanting a minion, I believe it is more so because it’s logical and useful. Why do it yourself and double the risk of getting caught when you can have someone do it for you instead?”

 

“…It’s too fucking early in the morning for this, flea. Just drink your coffee then get the fuck out.”

 

Izaya tuts while he wraps a blanket he stole from the bedroom around his small frame. A finger waggles his direction like Shizuo’s nothing more than just a child being reprimanded for doing something wrong. “I’ve seen the most vile, deprived part of humanity and-”

 

“So what?” Shizuo barks out from the kitchen. The tinkering of making breakfast comes to a stop as he walks out from behind the kitchen counter to lean against the opening door way from the kitchen to the living room. “Is this stupid fuckin’ shit supposed to impress me?”

 

Time comes to a stop between them as the air grows heavy and thick with memories of last night resurfacing. Izaya shakes his head, a small action that Shizuo wouldn’t have caught if he didn’t see the tremble of the blankets shaking with him, and lets out a forlorn sigh. Time seems to have stopped, but the ticking movement of the sun creeping in through Shizuo’s disastrous white blinds hung in front of his windows proves that theory wrong.

 

“In the deepest reaches of the human mind, there is a dark place, a place filled with twisted reason, but reason all the same…”

 

Izaya’s voice doesn’t waver despite the cracks of his facade breaking down as his mouth crinkles into a tight-lipped smile. He slowly reaches out a hand to grab the mug from the coffee table and drinks another gulp of the bitter liquid. The males every movement cries out with normalcy as if this is the usual conversation they have, but Shizuo can tell from the jerky twitch in Izaya’s fingers that it’s beginning to affect him too.

 

Shizuo can’t believe it.

 

“Look…” His voice is hoarse, low and cracks underneath the hesitant syllables of the word as he lowers his eyes to the floor. Shizuo can’t look at Izaya when he says this; he’d rather not when the slow rise of panic that squeezes his lungs is larger in comparison to the dying want to see how the asshole will react to his oncoming sentence. “What I said last night, we’re just, where the fuck do we stand? We can’t - we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

 

Izaya’s body trembles, shoulders shaking as if he’s holding back pent up sobs, and before Shizuo can come closer to see if the louse is really crying, a laugh bubbles out. It’s sharp and shrill, loud and obnoxiously boyish in the way that Shizuo can’t help but feel a tinge of adoration yet disgust mold together into his chest as if it belongs there.

 

The male sitting on the couch crumbles into a fit of laughter, back bending down until his head is encased between his knees and soon enough to abrupt laughter comes to a trickling fit of snickers. “A-ah, this is…ahaha…so wrong.”

 

“What do you mean this is  _‘so wrong’_!?”

 

Shizuo’s shout does nothing but claim a sliver of air riveting off into the room with his breath being a waste of air. Izaya keeps his head between his knees as his body quivers still with the small traces of laughter underneath his breath. And a moment before Shizuo decides to walk up to the still laughing raven, Izaya raises his head and locks his eyes with the waiting blond.

 

“Don’t play dumb, Shizu-chan, I know I always call you a dumb beast but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

 

“No, I  _don’t_ know what you’re talking about-”

 

“The more people you love, the weaker you get.”

 

“Stop trying to hide behind all that bullshit, ‘Zaya! Five days ago, you literally told me I was  _'your number one’_  or some shit like that, or do you not remember that either!?”

 

His fist collides against the wall in a fit of anger as his outburst brings the two to a pin-dropping silence. Shizuo’s shoulder tense as Izaya stands up from his seat on the couch, and before Izaya can traipse close enough to touch the stifling blond leaning against the door frame, the words that spill from Shizuo’s lips are nothing like him; small, quiet and cold.

 

“When you said I was your number one, I didn’t know that meant there was a two and three.”

 

Even though his eyes are closed, Shizuo can sense that Izaya stops moving for a split second. And for a second, the crashing guilt thrashes and churns in his gut but he won’t take back the words that stand as the truth. But the steps start up again, albeit a bit more hesitant this time around, and a hand slides up against the bicep of his arm in a reassuring manner that Shizuo refuses to fall victim to.

 

“…You are my number one–”

 

“Fucking bullshit!”

 

Shizuo’s eyes snap open with a flurry as an angry scowl dents his face with a somber expression. Izaya barely flinches as the indignant shout bellows over his face, and does nothing but raises a semi-warm hand against the blond’s face. Shizuo glares daggers as he feels the finger intertwine with his blond locks, Izaya’s palm pressed against his ear to where his thumb brushes against Shizuo’s cheek bones.

 

It takes everything he has to not fall to this sly, conniving man’s charms, but the moment Shizuo’s eyes are locked and held by Izaya’s own glimmering irises, he knows he’s failed. His heart crumples in his chest and deflates rapidly as the guilt of his words before rushes in and beats his emotions to a pulp.

 

Izaya sighs, a miserable expression crosses his face and Shizuo wants nothing more than to just forget about the whole fiasco. He’ll do anything to make Izaya smile again, even if it means disregarding his own feelings for a while longer.

 

“I don’t,” the shorter man’s breath hitches as his eyes lower, mouth opening and closing before he continues again, “I just don’t think we’re…ready.”

 

The words are off and Shizuo knows Izaya all too well now to know that the words he spouts aren’t the right ones, but he’s glad nonetheless. Hurt, but glad all at the same time to be able to hear the wrong words instead. Knowing this man for so long comes with skill of being able to interpret words, but these words are much too loud, and far too heavy for his heart to take.

 

It’s not that Izaya think they’re not ready to jump into the unknown of their blurred friendship. What Izaya really says, in his fucked up language of his that Shizuo hates a bit more than most people do, is so much worse than anything he’s ever heard come out from those pretty lips:

 

_“I don’t think I’m ready to be loved by you.”_

 

The blond closes his eyes for a minute and breathes for the moment, enjoying the fingers that are still cradling the side of his face and the thumb brushing against his cheek like a mother would to an upset child. He can’t open his eyes, not when his heart has been shredded apart by mere words that only Izaya can do. It takes him a couple more inhales of warm air, and by the time Shizuo opens his eyes, his heart and mind have both succumbed to the loss

 

“…Yeah,” Shizuo shrugs hopelessly as he leans against both Izaya’s hand and the door frame. “I mean, what’s one more year of waiting? I’ve been doing it for five years now so….”

 

The conversation between the two trickles into an eternity of miserable silence, as if the silence itself had swallowed their voices whole. But that didn’t matter, because nothing mattered to Shizuo as long as he could keep some sort of relationship with Izaya.

 

Even if that meant waiting for the confirmation that he knew would never come.


End file.
